Emerson Lake & Palmer
Tarkus

Towards the end of the '60s, the phenomenon of so-called 'supergroups' occurred in the rock world. These were often bands consisting of musicians from disbanded groups or ensembles of virtuosos tired of the discipline imposed by their former groups. To better understand the musical project of Emerson Lake & Palmer, we must start with the idea of a 'supergroup', characterized mainly by technical prowess.

At that time, Keith Emerson, an unsatisfied leader of the Nice and one of the best keyboardists around, met Greg Lake in San Francisco, a new leader among rock bassists, disillusioned by the disastrous American tour with King Crimson. Together, they decided to form a true superband: initially, they contacted Jimi Hendrix and Mitch Mitchell, but the project fell apart due to their differing mentalities and the record label's veto against the 'left-hander'. So they recruited Carl Palmer, drummer of the Atomic Rooster and a classic second choice, as 'monsters' like Bill Bruford or Mike Giles were already occupied. Naturally, such strong, egocentric, and megalomanic personalities could only use their last names for the band name, in alphabetical order.

The adventure began on August 23, 1970, with a grand concert on the Isle of Wight alongside the Doors, Joni Mitchell, the Who, and many others. A few months later, they debuted with a fresh, idea-rich eponymous album. Their reputation as musical acrobats swept the rock world, and anticipation for their second work became feverish. When 'Tarkus' was released in the spring of 1971, it shot to the top of the UK charts in just two weeks. It was immediately hailed as a masterpiece, and critics coined the term 'techno rock' for the occasion. Indeed, this album arrived at their creative zenith, with spectacular live shows that are still considered examples of the most thrilling in rock history; Emerson's knife stabs at the Hammond organ were unforgettable, inciting fan frenzy. A highly esteemed music of pure quality, not yet enveloped by the cold and sterile technicality of the future.

In Tarkus, Emerson’s soloist exaltation due to the unusual triangulated formation centered around keyboards was channeled into a collaborative work where pieces were developed by the rhythm section. The architect of this balance was Greg Lake, who, at the production level, shifted the sound towards refined rock forms, focusing more on interpretative passion than executional perfection.

Recorded in six days, Tarkus amplifies what the three achieved in their previous album through enthusiasm, on rational frameworks. The first part is the most hermetic and experimental: a suite developed in seven movements around some sort of dark, prehistoric-metaphysical tale centered on the battle between the tank-tracked armadillo Tarkus, depicted on the cover, and Manticore, another monstrous creature which later became the name of their private label. A concept focused on the futility of war and the eternal struggle between good and evil, with literary metaphors assembling mythological, fabulous, and surreal elements dear to other groups of that era, such as Jethro Tull, Yes, and Genesis. Many compositions were inspired by the music of Alberto Ginastera, an Argentine composer Emerson would draw on later as well. This record severely tested the group's cohesion because Lake openly disapproved of some of Emerson's choices, mainly exploiting the synthesizer's sound scales to the fullest. To create complex and dark music, conceived and built on 'sonic explosions', where a dynamic decidedly jazzy is grafted onto classical and romantic openings, meaning the rigorous construction of harmonic lines with ample room for soloistic flair. Emerson's keyboards described environments, ventured into solo gallops, indulged in dreamy improvisations, and then the Moog would tear, destroy. Lake's guitars served to illuminate, evoke, direct the sounds, and when he 'strummed' the bass strings, it magically recalled the 'ripples' of the crimson tide. Palmer's precise and hammering drumming wove rhythmic textures full of many finishes. Twenty intense minutes of miraculous sonic balance which Lake explained thus: 'There are two big personalities in our band, which, especially from a musical standpoint, create the problem of a meeting point. I am very attached to natural sound elements, almost earthy, such as voice and acoustic guitar; Keith, however, is a surreal artist, and it's no coincidence his forte is electronics, generating sounds outside nature—a concept quite different from mine: reaching a meeting point, the fusion of these elements is the effort required to coexist in a band'.

The strength of Tarkus lies precisely in this blend of energetic music and the pictorial suggestion of atmospheres, in the descriptive taste of 'Stone Of The Years', 'Iconoclast', and 'Mass', which culminates in Lake's beautiful ballad, 'Battlefield', and the engaging and intense military march of 'Aquatarkus'. The second part is divided, however, into separate episodes even if the substance remains the same. 'Bitches Crystal' is a hard, edgy composition, almost a geometric collage between keyboards, rhythm section, and vocals, while the solemn 'The Only Way' is a reinterpretation of a Bach theme. A continuous alternation of efforts and sensations; personality and virtuosity play a primary role as in 'Infinite Space' and the following 'A Time And A Place', where a wonderful and interesting fusion is achieved between rock, jazz, and classical reminiscences. Also stunning are 'Jeremy Bender' and the final 'Are You Ready Eddy?', a rock'n'roll dedicated to sound engineer Eddie Offord. First presented on the American tour and preceded by the single 'Stone Of Years', the album achieved great commercial success even in the United States, reaching ninth place on the charts. Target of harsh criticism and wide acclaim, Tarkus marked an emblematic yet undoubtedly interesting chapter, enriching rock with new and innovative sounds.

Consider that in this album, the synthesizer reached its full stature as a complete instrument and its functional dimension as a soloist instrument. This lesson was embraced by all those bands in the '70s that relied on the electronic element. Afterward came cold and rhetorical perfection, obsessive attention to the technical side. And it's precisely the absence of formal and aesthetic content, of technical expressions, that has made 'Tarkus' an immense and fundamental work. A phrase by Lake encapsulates this absolute masterpiece: 'I know people consider us pretentious. We simply love to write and play. But our music and lyrics are not immediate: they require attention, and anything that requires active effort on the part of the listener can be considered pretentious'.

An album that changed the history of rock, a jewel that still shines today, with its own unmatched light.